


Camera Roll

by S1NPARTY (S3APARTY)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Desperation, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess (Literally), M/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, Piss kink, Voyeurism, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20452778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S3APARTY/pseuds/S1NPARTY
Summary: Keith looks away from the phone in his hands for a moment to glance at the door before daring to make a few of the pictures on screen larger, his cheeks heating up shamefully as he swipes quickly through shot after shot of Lance in nothing but his underwear until he stops short at a video.He finds himself pressing play without really thinking about it.--In other words,Keith finds Lance's phone and learns there's a lot one can do when left alone with a front-facing camera.





	Camera Roll

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many WIPs in my google docs... I finally managed to finish one! ;o;  
This is my first time writing anything like this to completion. 
> 
> Shout out to my gals who read this over for me and helped me out when I got stuck.  
You know who you are. <3
> 
> ... I am never going to write anything in present tense again.

Keith wanders the halls of the castle-ship aimlessly as his conversation with Shiro and Coran from earlier plays back through his mind.

\---

_ “No training today! Coran says the deck needs to be cleaned... desperately.” Shiro’s arms folded in front of his chest as he rolled his eyes towards the aforementioned man who was, at the moment, comically stomping his way across the room wearing something that resembled some kind of hazmat suit. _

_ “Wh-- but Shiro! What am I supposed to do? I have to train!” Keith huffed. _

_ “None of that!” Coran chimed in, rattling a large bucket filled with various bottled liquids and small oddly textured moving objects that might have been sponges. “We’re in dire straits number four! You lot are lucky the whole deck’s not under quarantine! I swear I’ve never seen any organism produce as much sweat-type bodily fluid as all of you do.” _

_ “Says the man who had a case of the slipperies...” Shiro chuckled. Coran chose to pretend he didn’t hear him. “Use this time to relax a little Keith,” he rested an arm on his shoulder and squeezed. “You work hard. You deserve it.” _

_ “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take more than a few quintants. Wish me luck gentleman!” He smiled and strolled his way towards the door, turning to give a final salute, before entering. Shiro lifted his arm to salute back. _

_ “Godspeed.” _

_ \--- _

Keith groans outwardly. A few quintants. _ Quintants? _ What was he going to do with himself in the meantime? He rubs his forehead as he looks up to see that his mopey shuffling landed him at the common room door. No training deck means no training... and no training means he can afford to relax for once. After all, Shiro _ did _ give him the go-ahead. The air from the door ruffles his bangs as it swishes open. 

He’s not two steps into the room before his boot catches on something soft and causes him to momentarily lose his balance. He looks down and frowns.

“God dammit Lance...” Keith curses in annoyance as he eyes a single blue lion slipper under his foot. He swipes it off the floor with a grumble as he makes his way to the couch. “How hard is it to pick up after yourself?” He sighs when he sits, his eyes squinting at the other slipper offensively wedged between the cushions. He squeezes his hand into the crease to rescue it from the couch’s leathery grasp, only to immediately bump his knuckles against something hard. He gets a hold of the mystery object and tugs, rolling his eyes when he sees that it’s Lance’s phone he’s fished out, screen turned up blindingly bright and unlocked. 

“_ Typical _ ,” he scoffs and rights it in his palm. “Bet you he’s tearing his room apart looking for it.” Keith’s snorts as his thumb accidentally opens up Lance’s camera roll, the screen displaying tons of tiny boxes, all filled with Lance’s face from various angles. He knew Lance was a selfie kinda guy, but this? _ This was borderline narcissism _. 

Against his better judgement he begins to idly scroll his way farther through the photos. There had to be hundreds in here; some of Lance smiling cheekily, others of him posing ridiculously. _ When did he find the time to take all of these _? he wonders to himself. 

As Keith keeps scrolling, the pictures begin to show less and less of Lance’s face and more of just his body, lifting his shirt to show his abs and chest. He looks away from the phone for a moment to glance at the door before daring to make a few of the pictures larger, his cheeks heating up shamefully as he swipes quickly through shots of Lance in nothing but his underwear before he stumbles upon a video.

He finds himself pressing play without really thinking about it. 

Lance is leaning back in his bed wearing just his boxer-briefs; his body propped upright against the wall. His face is just out of frame. He uncomfortably shifts a bit from side to side on his knees before he lets out a tiny gasp. Keith squints in confusion at the small display, as he tries to make out what’s going on. His eyes quickly grow wide as saucers his brain connects the dots. _ He wouldn’t, _ he thinks. 

First he hears it, a faint hissing from the small speaker on the phone. 

And then he sees it, the tight fabric dampening quickly to show the shape of his dick, leaving very little to the imagination.

Keith stares as Lance pisses his underwear… on video.

Lance brings his hand to his mouth and bites his knuckles to hold back a groan. Keith’s heart skips a beat.

_ Oh my god. _

A blush paints Keith from head to toe as he tears his eyes away from the phone display. He swallows thickly as he frantically fumbles with the phone, locks it, and flips it back face-down where he found it before scurrying his way out of the common room in such a rush that he bumps headfirst into Lance. 

_ Great. _

“Oh shit, sorry Keith.” Keith swats away the hand that tries to pat his arm in apology. “I can’t find my phone. Have you--?”

“_ Nope _ _!_” He answers a little too quickly, effectively cutting off Lance mid-sentence. He’s already making a beeline towards his bedroom, not looking back once as he practically breaks into a sprint down the hallway.

“_ Ooookay then. _”

\---

“End training sequence.” 

After what felt like an eternity to Keith, Coran had given them the okay to use the training deck again. He lowers his bayard and wipes the back of his hand across his brow. The calm hum of the castle-ship’s engine fills the room as he takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and grimacing at the way his shirt clings to his back. 

With late-night training comes late-night showers. He prefers it this way. The showers connected to the training deck were open and far from personal, so being awake this late would allow him to soak in peace. His feet begin to carry him towards the exit at the room’s far end without a second thought. Despite the deck only being inaccessible for a few quintants as Coran promised, he missed this. Nights like these rewarded him with the best sleep.

He’s two steps away from the open entryway before he hears a scraping sound that makes him leap out of his skin. Keith takes a cautious step forward and hears quiet exasperated huffs, puffs, and a barely-there whisper of ‘_ there we go _’ before he stops again.

Who could possibly be in here this late? He’s never had to share the showers with someone at this time of night and he definitely wasn’t planning to start now. 

He peeks around the corner slowly and sees Lance standing in the centermost open shower stall fully clothed. His legs were knit tightly together and his hands were sliding down his chest, lingering at his nipples. Keith sees them hardening beneath his shirt from where he stands, clear as day. He swallows.

What… _ What was this? _

Lance’s eyes focus intently on something in front of him and it’s then that Keith sees Lance’s phone propped up on a slender chair in front of him. His hands suddenly ball up into fists and swing to his sides as he squirms in place. 

And then Lance freezes.

“_ S-shit _ _!_ I…” Lance begins to speak and Keith swings his head behind the wall and out of view. _ Shit _ , he thinks, _ He totally saw me. _Keith’s heart thrums in his chest as his body slides down the wall, coming to a less than graceful stop as his butt hits the floor. He starts to briefly consider running to the nearest pod and launching himself into deep space until Lance continues. 

“....Have to go— _ s-so bad, _” Lance whines from the other side of the wall and Keith dares to lean around the corner just enough to watch Lance melt. A few small whimpers leave his lips and his legs slowly spread. His eyes are fixed on the display of his phone as a small spot starts to show itself on the front of his pants. A sharp gasp from Lance seems to make everything stop for a moment. His face scrunches up and his shoulders begin to shake. 

Keith’s mouth suddenly feels very dry. 

“Oh _ god _ . _ It’s coming out _ \--_! _ _ I _...” 

He shouldn’t be here.

“_ I’m gonna-- _!”

Lance’s body dips and sways in place once more before the dam finally breaks. 

The dark patch is then spreading like wildfire across the bunched up folds in the fabric of his jeans. He snatches up a fistfull of his shirt and lifts it for the camera, the muscles in his belly fluttering as he relieves himself. His free hand busies itself by running down his leg slowly, swiping up along his inner thigh on the way back up to grab at the growing dampness in his jeans.

Keith watches, mesmerized, as the wetness continues to spread, painting the denim a deep blue. He finds himself following one line in particular as it runs down his thigh and pools into the wrinkles of fabric at his knee.

He runs his fingers through his bangs and sighs. He never thought he’d be here. Half hard, watching someone piss themselves... Let alone _ Lance _ of all people.

What a pervert he was. 

Lance lets out a shaky sigh of content once he finishes and leans back against the shower wall behind him. His hands ghost over the front of his pants before his fingers snap up to undo the button. Without skipping a beat, Lance shimmies a bit from side to side to get the damp fabric free from where it’s stuck to his legs and pushes his pants down just enough to pull himself out. His eyes flutter shut as he gives his wet clothes another tight squeeze, a few droplets wringing between his fingers before they drip to the floor. 

At that moment Keith feels like he’s clutching the corner of the wall he’s behind tightly enough to leave permanent damage. His knuckles go white and he wiggles in place where he sits. He can’t tear his eyes away from Lance’s half-hard dick, shiny and wet from piss and pre-come beading at the tip. He swallows weakly, white-hot heat coiling deep in his belly. 

Lance shudders when he closes his hand around himself, starting off with a few slow strokes before working himself up to a steady rhythm and full hardness. Wet sounds echo obscenely off the tiles in the room.

Keith’s mouth hangs open at the sight, his dick now painfully hard against the zipper of his jeans. His hands fly down to undo his pants and he can’t help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him at the thought of how desperate he must look. He brings his right hand up to his mouth and haphazardly pulls his glove off with his teeth. Keith’s shoulders tremble when he finally wraps his fingers around himself and gives his dick a firm squeeze at the base. 

Shame be damned, this was happening. He was doing this.

His eyes never leave Lance as he watches him trail the hand that was once holding his shirt down the wet patches on his legs as he pumps himself with the other. Lance’s eyes open and lock onto where his phone rests, hazed with arousal. A whine spills from his lips as his hand pauses briefly to thumb across his slit. He’s completely lost in his own little world. Moans peppered with colorful curses slip freely from him as his head tilts back against the wall. His hand starts to move a little quicker. 

Keith tries his best to follow the pace that Lance is setting for himself but the movements are so erratic and rushed. He figures Lance is getting close. He lets out a tiny sigh when he slips his hand down his shaft rough and quick, squeezing tight when his palm slides over the head and milks more pre-come from his slit. He licks his lips and continues to watch Lance through hooded eyes as Lance’s chest rises and falls from heavy breaths. Keith’s gaze dances between his sweat slicked brow to his lips, red and shiny from being worried between his teeth.

Keith would do _ anything _ to be up in Lance’s space right now… To be in front of the camera _ with _ Lance, standing there in the mess he’s made, mouthing obscenities against his neck while _ he _ jerked Lance off. He’d make sure to lean in close to his ear and whisper how dirty he was. 

“F-fuck, _ Lance. _” Keith hisses under his breath. He lets his eyes fall shut as he continues to fuck into his fist in earnest. His mind drifts to what he saw the other day on Lance’s camera roll. Picture after picture of Lance lewdly on display. Secret after filthy secret.

Except it's not a secret anymore.

Keith _ knows _. 

And Lance has no idea.

The sound of a loud shameless moan brings him back down to earth and straight into an embarrassingly hard orgasm. He catches the sight of Lance coming over his hand, covering the tan skin of his knuckles messily. His eyes rake over the view in front of him, the image of Lance’s adam’s apple bobbing in his throat while he swallows and shakes against the shower wall burning into his mind. Keith barely manages to keep his own mess contained in his fist as Lance whines. 

“_ Fuuuuck yes,” _ he rasps between breaths. “ _ So good.” _His hand starts to slow as he works out the last few drops of come and spreads his hand open for the camera. He smiles dopily as he lets it slowly slide off his palm and to the floor to mix with the wet mess he made earlier at his feet.

They both sit in spent silence, coming down from their respective highs. Keith turns his body so that he’s fully leaning against the wall behind himself, breathing hard, but not loud enough to be heard. He sighs as he wipes his dirty palm against his pants. 

So, _ that _ happened. 

Keith is quick to snap out of his post-orgasm fog when he hears Lance start to walk towards where he assumes he’d propped up his phone. He scrambles to his feet and scoops his discarded glove off the floor.

“That’s a keeper,” Lance purrs proudly to himself. “Time to get cleaned up…” 

Keith takes the rustling sounds of clothing that follow as his cue to make his escape. There was no way he’d be able to walk in for his shower after _ that _. He’ll come back later.

Lord knows he _ really _ needs that shower now. 

**Author's Note:**

> I make art! :)
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@S1NPARTY](http://twitter.com/SINPARTY).


End file.
